


Healing Comes Slow

by tryslora



Series: All Our Yesterdays [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Community: fullmoon_ficlet, Divorce, Healing, M/M, Past Character Death, injury to a child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 11:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles stays with his daughter while she recuperates after her accident, and she decides that’s the perfect moment to quiz him about her other father.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Healing Comes Slow

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written for prompt #29 - Recuperating at fullmoon_ficlet. This seemed to fit both Nikki and Stiles; they both need healing at this point. As always, I do not own the characters or world of Teen Wolf.

“I don’t want you to fight with Papa.” Nikki leans on the rail of the bed, her legs wobbling as Stiles stands behind her, trying to help. She tosses her head, trying to get her hair out of her face without touching it, and Stiles reaches to do it for her.

“Stand still, baby,” he tells her, reaching into his pocket for one of the hair bands he’d grabbed from her bathroom at the house before coming back to the hospital that morning. He quickly finger combs the long red waves and braids them as neatly as he can manage. “As for fighting, I can’t promise anything. We’re going to talk.”

“When?” Nikki shifts her grip from the rail to Stiles’s arm, holding on tight enough that he swears he’s going to bruise. She takes a shuffling step, and Stiles moves with her, helping her stay standing. “Daddy, he’s not—”

“I know you’ve been talking to him.” Stiles cuts her off because in his mind, it isn’t her business to tell him what to do. He’s still the dad, and she’s still the kid, even though they’ve been close for the last decade. After all, Stiles knew exactly what it was like to grow up in a single parent household. He had Melissa and his own father for role models, and he had more backup with Allison and Scott than his dad ever had when he was young. “We’re going to talk about that later, when you’re feeling better. Because you’ve been lying to me.”

“Like you never lied to Grandpop.” Nikki’s tone is sharp, surprisingly so, and Stiles gives her a look. Her smile, when it comes, is pure sweet innocence, a look that reminds him far too much of her mother. “I’ve heard the stories, Daddy. I know what you were like when you were my age. You and Uncle Scott laugh about it all the time.”

“The part where you call him Uncle Scott and you’re dating Caleb do not match,” Stiles points out. “Please do not refer to Caleb as your cousin.”

“I don’t.” Her smile shifts to a quick, mischievous smirk. “Don’t worry.”

Her steps are more sure as they cross the floor slowly, although her fingers still dig into the flesh of his arm. She is stubborn about her healing, although Stiles would never have expected anything less. “Sometimes you remind me so much of your mother,” he murmurs.

She shoots him a startled look. “Is this one of those times you want to talk about her?”

Stiles flinches, just a bit. “I haven’t been fair about it, have I?”

She raises both eyebrows, and Stiles almost laughs at the expression, but she’s still talking and this isn’t the time. “Honestly? No. You don’t talk much about Papa, you won’t talk about my mother, but you make sure I know I’m loved and chosen, because you told me Papa would skin you alive if you messed with my adoptedness and feeling like I’m part of the family.”

“Fair assessment,” Stiles agrees.

“You loved her, didn’t you?”

Now he does laugh, because that doesn’t even begin to cover it. “I idolized her once, then I loved her, and so did Jackson. She was something amazing.”

“Then why don’t you talk about her?” Nikki stops moving and Stiles stumbles slightly, forcing himself to stay upright so he doesn’t pull her down to the ground with him. Her expression is serious, eyes wide, lashes long and dark against her too-pale skin.

“Because it was traumatic,” Stiles says quietly. “Because I hate losing people, and I have a history of it. Because if things were different, you wouldn’t be my daughter, and that would be okay, because I’d have her _and_ you, and I would’ve loved that. And when I thought I was going to lose you… Nik, I’ve buried my mother, my father, my friends, one of my _best_ friends… I can’t bear to lose anyone else.”

“What about Papa?”

“You would ask that.” 

“Of course.” She tilts her chin, and it’s such a familiar gesture that it makes him smile despite her serious expression.

“We’re talking,” he admits. “We’re going to talk. Once you’re feeling better, and I’m not staying here all the time.” He doesn’t want to go into details about his relationship with Jackson. They couldn’t shield her completely from the fighting, but Stiles has never wanted to drag Nikki into the details of what went wrong. She’s just a kid; it’s not her burden.

Of course, she’s been talking to him. She now sees _sides_ when before all she knew was what she had.

It’s complicated, and it makes Stiles feel like shit, and he doesn’t like it.

“I’m okay, Dad.” Nikki manages to unwind her fingers from his arm and stands for several seconds on her own before she wobbles and grabs onto him again. “Maybe not perfect, but I’m getting better, and they think I’ll go home in a few days, and I’d really like it…” She stops, catching her lower lip in her teeth, and Stiles sees himself in her expression, in her mannerisms, and they look so strange sometimes in her mother’s features. “I’d like it if Papa were home, too.”

Talk about a kick in the gut.

“I can’t promise anything,” Stiles tells her. “I _won’t_ promise anything. He’s got a hotel room, and that’s for the best right now.”

They both turn at the knock on the door, and Caleb pokes his head in, grinning to see Nikki. He bounds over in two steps, throwing his arms around her, and Stiles lets go just in time to watch his godson hug his daughter hard.

“I’m in the way,” Stiles says.

“Mm-hm.” Nikki’s voice is muffled, and Stiles looks away because he does _not_ need to see his daughter engaging in public displays of affection. No matter what he knows is going on, it doesn’t need to be right in front of him. “Go home, Daddy. Go shower. Don’t come back until tomorrow.” She looks over Caleb’s shoulder. “And talk to Papa. Please.”

There is no magic that is going to heal this relationship, no matter how much their daughter wants. But as he leaves the room, Stiles pulls his phone out and looks at the spot where Jackson’s number is now, part of his contact list for the first time in a decade. He touches it, and as soon as Jackson answers, he starts speaking.

“I’m leaving the hospital now and I have to stop home to get washed up and changed. Meet me at Maria’s in an hour for dinner.”

Stiles hangs up before Jackson can say a word, and he tucks the phone in his pocket. He’ll either be there, or not. Stiles has chosen the battleground. It’s up to Jackson to start the next fight.


End file.
